


Cookies For My Son

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: Pearly's Preklok Fics [20]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Death, F/M, Infanticide, Psychological Horror, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Vomiting, attempted infanticide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: Matthias Murderface knew there was something wrong with his son.





	1. Birth

"He looks angry."

That was the first thing Valentina said about her son. His brow was low. "He looks very angry. Such a powerful brow."

Immediately Matthias Murderface felt there was something wrong with the fruit he bore. He had a harsh stare -- powerful green eyes. Like jade stones on fire. Burning. The pits of hell. The child stared directly at him. "What should his name be? I was thinking 'Santiago'."

"We're not giving him such a long mumbo-jumbo name."

"It may seem long to you. It's an incredibly common name where I was born."

"Well isn't that even more insulting?..." Matt sighed. "Can't we just buy a name book or something?"

"No, that's cheating." Valentina paused, staring at the newborn. He had a stern expression -- lips curled into a sort of snarl and brow perpetually furrowed. "Have you got any better ideas?" Really, Matt didn't. After all, they'd used all the good names on their other six children. "It's amazing, really, he didn't even cry when he was born."

"What have you got?"

"...William? Like, William Burroughs?"

Matt always thought that Valentina's interest in beat poetry was silly. Really she seemed to love every alternative trend from punk nonsense to hippy nonsense. But whatever, that was fine, William was a fine name. (At the very least, it was better than 'Santiago'.)

"Fine. That works." Matt leaned down, holding out his hand to his newborn son. "Hey there." Immediately William backed away, averting his face for a moment before clamping his bony gums down onto Matt's finger. He reeled back from the newborn. Not painful, but shocking. "You- you rat bastard!"

"Matthias, don't call your son a 'rat bastard'."

"He bit me!"

"Relax, he don't got any teeth."

He locked eyes with William for a moment. William was sticking his fingers in his own mouth, staring at a wall with his eyebrows still lowered. (He must've hated that wall.) "He's a bit of a grouch, huh. A bit of a..." She lowered her voice. "Kind of a little shit."

"Oh so you can say it, but I can't."

"I'm not screamin' at him."

"Yeah, but still..." Matt sighed. "Whatever. When d'you think we can take him home?"

-

He was in space again. Another lucid dream. He'd been having a lot of those recently. Though he had no clue what they meant. Mostly just a bunch of hooey. Regardless, Matt allowed himself to hang weightless in the space. And yet, this time, he saw a figure in the distance.

"Hello, my friend."

It was a baphomet, about six or seven feet tall. His hands hung limp in the air, head twitching as he approached Matt. "The human world is in danger and it's because of you, you know." Matt swallowed as the devil circled around him.

"Me? What'd I do?"

"Your sixth son carried the satanic number in his soul, and a demon was released into the womb of your wife." Satan's eyes grew red. "That demon was your seventh son. And above the surface of the world he will cause havoc and chaos wherever he goes." Even if this was a dream, Matt could nearly feel his chest tightening. "The child must be dealt with or there will be grave consequences to you and those you love."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I have control over Hell and all those who belong there." The devil squinted. "I will not relinquish that control. There is no more I must tell you."

"Huh?"

Suddenly he was falling through space and he landed in his bed, woken by the baby screaming.


	2. The Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was right in front of him.

"Dad, I couldn't sleep at all last night with Will screamin'."

"Yeah, that's how babies are." Matt took a sip of his coffee. "Grandma's coming over today to meet him."

"Is it gramma Paola or gramma Stella?"

"Sweetie." Another sip. "Grandma Paola can't speak English, how would I know if she was showing up."

"Bleh. Gramma Stella is mean."

"No she isn't." Matt made as sure as he could that his mother didn't lay a hand on his kids. She was volatile -- a ticking time bomb. Her husband was the only thing even close to keeping her in check. Though Matt certainly didn't think there was anything inherently _wrong_ with smacking a child once in awhile, Stella's methods were a bit too harsh. "Where is your little brother, anyway? Is he doing well?"

"I dunno. He's in 'is room."

"Dear," Valentina stepped into the living room. "Come quick!"

Matt stood, walking after Valentina into William's new bedroom. He laid in the crib, limp. His chest wasn't rising. Oh lord, he'd fallen victim to SIDS. Ugly and cruel, but still, William was his son. As soon as tears began falling from Valentina's eyes, Matt could feel a lump in his throat. He hadn't expected anything like this. He pressed a finger to his son's chest... and felt a soft heartbeat. "Is he going to be okay?!"

...There was a strange noise.

That noise revealed itself to be a scream. Matt's scream, because William had curled around his arm and clamped his gums around his wrist. Matt pulled back, seeing William fall over in fits of infantile laughter. How on earth could a child have such a cruel sense of humor? Despite his lack of teeth, his maw still felt like it was made of steel. A grody bruise was left just by his hand. He clenched his fist and scowled.

"He was just playing."

"Oh!" Valentina wiped her eyes. "He... he was faking it?"

"Yep."

"How did he, uh... know?"

"Obviously it's a fucking demon."

"He sure is!" Valentina lifted him into her arms. "Who's my little devil?" William had returned to his stone-cold expression, arms laying across his chest as though they were folded in annoyance. "You think maybe we should have him checked out by a neurologist?"

"He'd ought to get checked out by a damn priest."

"Don't be so dramatic."

"But I saw--" He paused. She'd never believe him.

"Saw what?"

"Nothing, nevermind." He'd be better off discussing this with someone else. No normal baby can pretend to be dead, after all.

-

"So this is the seventh one, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Can I hold 'im?" Stella put out her hands and Matt handed his newborn over. "He looksch like an old man."

"An angry old man."

"He's angry, huh." Thunderbolt commented. "Sweet little thing."

William curled his lip, attempting (and failing) to spit in Stella's face. Instead it simply came out as spittle. His fingers pulled at his baby hair and he screeched and flailed all over the place. His little hands hit Stella's face, with her response being to pull him away from herself, holding him by the back of his shirt collar.

"Thisch little rat baschtard." She turned her head. "Fuckin' take him before I drop him on the damn floor."

"Yes, yes, I know, I know. Valentina, could you take William to bed please? Or something? Maybe he's hungry?"

"You know," Valentina stepped in. "You'd think after having six other kids you'd know how to parent by now."

"This one's different, I think."

-

"Your schon'sch a fucking wackjob."

"Now now, Stella." Valentina sighed over her cup of tea. "He's just a little different."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Stella waved Valentina off. "Go back to Tijuana for god'sch schakesch."

"I'm-" Valentina took a deep breath. "Why don't I go check on William?" She stood, shuffling away as fast as she could. Matt gave an awkward smile. His mother was several hundred years behind the times. In fact, to this day, she'd still complain about the fact that black people could vote. There was no point in talking with her about it. After all, she wasn't changing her mind anytime soon.

"Damnit, Matthias. Why did you have to marry a fuckin' Mexschican?"

"She's, uh, she's Colombian."

"Oh, even better. They're all the fuckin' schame!"

"Your son certainly is an odd character." Thunderbolt was quiet during visits, for the most part. But of course he'd quip now and then. 

"I think there's something up with him."

"How scho?"

"Ah, I've just been havin' weird dreams. Saying he's the spawn of the devil or something."

"Schpawn of the devil?" Stella clasped her hands together. "If he'sch that much of a problem you could alwaysch schmother 'em. Thasch what they did in my hometown."

"No, no, I can't smother an infant."

"Stella." Thunderbolt held her shoulder. "Don't talk proudly about infanticide, now."

"I'm jusch schayin', it ain't unheard of. They'll never even know -- babiesch die all the time." Stella shrugged. "I almoscht killed your brother Angus. Thunderbolt had to fuckin' schtop me, though."

"I'm not having infant blood on my hands."

"It ain't on your handsch!" She sighed. "Fuckin' whatever. It don't matter none to me what you do. If he keepsch flappin' hisch armsch around like a shitfasched monkey, I ain't payin' his college fundsch."

"I understand." Matt sighed. "Didn't you say you needed to be somewhere at 12?"

"Yeah, the local groschery schtore'sch schtartin' a schale on pre-made schammiches."

"It's 11:45."

"Pissch! Thunderbolt, let'sch get the fuck outta here, I want thosche damn schammiches!"

"Right, right. It was nice seeing you, Matthias."

"Don't be afraid to schmother your kidsch!"

Matt sighed.

"I won't, ma."


	3. Get it on DVD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A freak of nature.

Matt opened his eyes at 2 AM. Another dream. Not related to Satan, though. Perhaps it was just a fluke. He hadn't dreamed at all in several days, in fact. Regardless, he was hearing sounds from downstairs. He rubbed his eyes. What the fuck was that? He rose from bed. William had been oddly quiet that night...

...Oh god.

Leaping to his feet he dashed to William's room. The crib he normally slept in was not only empty, but the drop-side was pulled down and the blankets were shifted. He turned the lights on. The walls were dabbed with what he assumed was red paint, the can of which had been tipped over onto the floor. The noises were coming from below the room's floor. He swallowed. Should he get a pistol...? No, no, no, this was his son!

He tiptoed downstairs as quietly as possible, seeing light coming from the living room. Was the TV on? It seemed to illuminate the reddish footsteps on the hardwood floor, and he could see a tiny silhouette in the distance.

Careful, now.

He took quiet steps. In the doorway was an open DVD case. Dear god, this was the one Angus had sent him for Christmas, wasn't it. Some weird exploitation film called "Cannibal Holocaust". Matt had set it on his shelf to collect dust with no interest in watching such a ludicrous movie. Flipping the casing over, he found that the DVD inside was gone.

"William?"

He heard a grunt. That was definitely his son. On low volume, the music from the film played as Matt came around the corner and saw his son staring deeply at the screen. Fire swallowed the picture on the TV, an endless, orange, burning haze. William had his hand wedged into his own mouth, spittle and drool running down his arm and off of his pudgy elbow. He looked mesmerized. The red footprints trailed up to him, his little feet covered in the same color.

How in the fuck did he walk here?"

"William, what on earth are you doing?"

He looked up, the film still playing. His eyes were wide and seemed to shimmer in the light. Then he stared back at the fire. What appeared to be tribesmen, women and children were being forced into the fire. Matt felt sick to his stomach. "William..."

"Ithhs be-you-tifuww."

He spoke in unison with the DVD, as the man in the film remarked, _It's beautiful!_ Matt could taste bile in his throat. He shuddered and shouted up the stairs.

"Valentina! Come here!"


	4. Bleach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let your kids drink it.

Valentina never came downstairs. She was too deep in sleep. Matt laid William back in his crib, and saw as he pointed two fingers downward, and two fingers up, like the baphomet he saw in his dreams. He felt shudders in his spine. That movie was gruesome, too. He got down just in time to view more debauchery before turning the DVD player off. He shuddered and squirmed and cried as he thought about it, the bloodlust in his infant son's eyes as he turned. 

No sleep was had.

He was at home washing the clothes while Valentina went to work. He was a house-husband. All the kids were at work. It was just him and William, who was in his playroom chewing on his dolls. He felt a negative presence in the air as he held the bottles of bleach and detergent.

...

He ran to the playroom. William, still sensitive in mind an body, was sticking pushpins through the hands of his dolls. He strung them up across the corkboard like a mass crucifixion. He swallowed roughly, holding a plastic cup in his hand.

"William, sweetie."

William turned his head, a few pin marks dripping from his fingers.

"Ithhs bey-youtifful..."

He dabbed his tiny fingers together, making sticky red lines across his tiny palms. "...Bwootifuhh..."

"William. My dearest."

Nobody would ever know. He knew it. Mom was right, nobody would ever know. He grabbed the box of pins from his son, setting them on a table too high for his little boy to reach. No, that'd be much too painful, it had to be painless. This was his son, after all. "Please... make this easy for me."

William blinked, staring at the cup. It was clear, with a slight tint of blue. A concoction of laundry detergent and bleach that may very well overpower is infant son's digestive system. "I'll pour it in a ba-ba for you. As long as you drink it." He was so naive and childish despite his terrible nature, and yet, he used his smarts to fold a point in the cup with his uncoordinated hands. Like a little pitcher. Matt's heart leapt. So innocent, the way he guzzled the noxious mixture.

In ten minutes his mouth was irritated. Swollen. He whimpered and puked and sobbed. And yet, Matt knew this was what was right. His eyes watered. Matt rubbed William's back with his hand that nearly encapsulated his whole body.

"Yyy...yooouuuuu..."

Just noises. Just noises. William continued.

"You ra... ra... bath... terd..."

Matt stared.

"You can't turn that back on me."

William was sobbing and shaking. He must've been melting from the inside already, and yet, and yet, just then, the door opened. Matt had thrown the cup away, sure, but it didn't change the fact that Valentina had come home from work early.

-

"The doctor says William should be home in a few days." Valentina wiped her eyes. "I was so worried."

"Yeah."

Matt swallowed. This infant had thwarted him. A baby had cheated death, an honest-to-god baby. Bile creeped into his throat, and yet, he choked it back. This wasn't a hallucination or a game, or a coincidence, or anything like that. He had been cursed with something truly demonic, something _truly_ evil. He could feel it, he knew, he had seen. He didn't want his family to be harmed, and William was no longer his family.

That devil had to go down.

"I wish you'd pay better attention to him when I'm not home, you know!"

And poor blindsided Valentina. She fell for every little trick that the crude goblin put out. She would probably be first to go, if Matt wasn't.

"He escapes a lot."

"He certainly is smart."

Not smart, evil! His stomach turned. Poor Val, and his poor, poor children. It hurt him knowing they'd be backstabbed by their demon brother. The damned broken condom, it must've been. Someone, or something like William would never come from a real attempt at copulating. 

He felt so sorry.

"Anyway, let's go."

"I think I'm gonna stay here overnight."

Oh god, it was already happening. He was controlling her.

"You can't."

"Yes I can, Matt. How can you be so distant? He's our newborn son!"

"...Right."

No he wasn't.

"I'll see you tomorrow, but we really should talk about this."

"Yeah, yeah..."


End file.
